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Logically Tommy knew he wasn't alone. He had his dad, Phil, his brothers Techno and Wilbur, and he had Tubbo. He wasn't alone, he wasn't.
So why did he feel alone?
Why did it sometimes feel like he was drowning while everyone else was swimming without a care in the world.
Why did it feel like he needed to build walls of stone, while everyone else built fences.
It didn't help that he was the only human in the family. Everyone else had ended up as avians, proudly flaunting their giant wings wherever they went. Some days they would all go flying, while he was left only dreaming of the clouds and open blue skies that they were so easily able to traverse.
They would always ask him if he minded, if he ever felt left out, and he lied to their faces and told them it was fine. But it wasn't. The simple truth is that they flew higher than his dreams would ever take him, that they could be free while he was bound by gravity.
Tommy had long since stopped hoping for wings, as they grew in mostly between the ages of eight and twelve, and the latest anyone got their wings was fourteen.
He was now two years beyond that .
Even then, getting them at the age of fourteen was so rare it was practically unheard of, and considered myths in certain circles.It's because of this that Tommy had resigned himself to a flightless fate.
Tommy remembered waking up on his fifteenth birthday to a bare back, and the gut wrenching sadness that he would never fly. He had put on a smile that day, one that he didn't feel, and accepted all the birthday wishes he didn't want. All he had wanted to do all day was cry the wings he never had, and was never meant to have in the first place.
His brothers had reassured him that it would be fine, that flying was overrated anyways. But he still woke up the next morning, and every morning for a week, to a damp pillow and a raw face. He still felt the chains of the earth tethering him to the ground forever.
It didn't help that he was the least valuable and interesting person in the family. He didn't have Wilbur’s charisma or his voice, he didn't have Techno’s prowess with a sword or his skill with a bow, he didn't have Phil’s endless wisdom or seemingly infinite treasury of stories. He didn't even have Tubbo’s likeability, or his ability to make anyone smile with just a few words.
He was just Tommy. The one who no one really liked, the one who was picked last and challenged to fights so someone could feel good about themselves. He was the one everyone looked over, the blacksheep of the family.
So Tommy did the only thing he could to cope with this. He pretended he wasn't. If he didn't have wings to make himself seem interesting, then he’d just have to do it himself. He hyped himself up, he made sure that everyone knew they thought he was the best, even when he knew he really wasn't.
“Hey Wilbur,” he said, tossing his backpack by the door.
“Hi Tommy,” he greeted distractedly. He was sitting on the couch using his ipad as a makeshift table, writing something down on a notebook. His large brown wings were folded neatly behind him, his shiny feathers revealing glints of gold as the sun reflected off of them, light streaming in from the open window.
“What are you up to big man,” he said, plopping himself next to the older.
“Just working on something, would you mind leaving me for a bit actually,” Wilbur said, not looking up from his notebook.
“This is public space,” he protested.
“Still.”
Tommy huffed, annoyed, and then poked him in the ribs trying to get a rise out of him. When Wilbur didn't react he got up and, feeling dejected, made his way back to his room -which was the smallest in the house. It made sense he supposed, he was the only one without wings, so he didn't need as much space as the others did. Still though, it would be nice to have a bit more room. Even a few more square feet would suffice.
He sighed before letting himself fall onto the bed face first.
He lay there, his limbs sprawled along the bed and just for a minute, he allowed himself to imagine once more what it would be like to have wings. He imagined the way their weight would settle over his arms, how they would almost act like a blanket, how the feather might even tickle him a bit.
Tommy shook his head, it was no use imagining things like that, it would only disappoint him more in the end.
He got up a while later, fetched his bag, and got started on his homework. He had a few things he needed to do by tomorrow, and so long as his teachers didn’t spring a surprise project on him, then he would be free for the weekend.
Tommy sighed. Maybe he should leave it for the weekend, he would need something to do anyways. Phil was taking Techno, Wilbur and even Tubbo out to a lake house a few hours away. But he was staying home this time around. They were flying there and Tommy was too heavy to carry.
They had done this before, but usually he would go to Tubbo’s for the weekend. Ashe was joining them, he had to stay home. Alone. Again.
Tubbo had been begging for the chance to go ever since had gotten his wings at twelve, now, four years later, his parents had finally given in and allowed Tommy’s family to take him.
Tommy was happy for him, he really was.
But, he would be on his own.
He supposed that wasn’t a surprise.
He woke up the next day fully prepared to make sure everyone remembered him while they went away.
He pestered Techno with questions at breakfast and insisted Wilbur walk with him to school and made sure to toss in a few extra old-man jokes at Phil before he left.
With Tubbo he just stuck extra close to him not caring about how clingy he was being. Tubbo just smiled and asked him if he was sure that he was fine with him going.
“You've been looking forward to this since your wings grew in,” Tommy reassured him.
“I know, but I don’t like the idea of you being alone, I figured that at least Wilbur would stay behind,” Tubbo said, frowning a bit.
“Are you kidding, besides, who knows when the next time I’ll get the house to myself will be, I'm gonna enjoy it,” Tommy reassured him with a grin.
“Ok, if you're sure,” Tubbo said uncertainty.
Tommy just smiled and dragged him off to their bench.
The two sat on the wooden bench like they had so many times before. Tubbo wrapped one of his wings around Tommy, pulling him close. He only did this when he knew Tommy wouldn't protest, lest the younger mess up his wings. Although he always preened them afterwards, sometimes he just did it when he needed the gentle touch of his friend.
Today was one of those days when he knew Tommy wouldn't protest, he could see through the fake cheery smiles and the over exaggerated laughs that Tommy didn’t want to be alone this weekend. But he couldn’t stay or that would make Tommy even more upset.
And sure enough the blonde melted into Tubbo’s dark emerald wing. The brunette heard him sigh happily and he knew that, at the very least, he had made today a little better for his friend.
They walked home from school together, Tubbo with his wings hidden under his long coat. Tommy had handed Tubbo his camera, his most prized possession, to take with him on his trip, and was currently in the midst of threatening him if he broke it, and how to use it best.
When they got home they found the other three members of Tommy’s family already out on the lawn, their wings extended and their bags next to them, clearly ready to leave.
The first he saw were Phil’s dark grey wings, which faded to purple at the tips and occasionally glinted with the odd silver feather or two. Then came Techno’s bright red wings, and finally Wilbur’s warm brown wings.
“Tubbo, get that coat off, we need to leave,” Wilbur said.
The two boys looked at each other, before nodding and racing towards the house. When they reached the lawn they ran right at Wilbur, who quickly lost his balance and ended up on the ground, the two youngest laughing on top of him.
He tried to keep a straight face but he broke after only a few seconds.
“Seriously Tubbo we have to go,” he said, getting up once the laughter subsided.
He held his hands out to the boys who were still sprawled on the lawn. They took the hands offered to them, still letting out a few stray giggles.
“I didn't think we were leaving ‘till tomorrow,” Tubbo said.
“That was the plan, but the weather forecast said there would be a lot of wind tomorrow.Usually I wouldn't change plans like this, but since it’s your first time coming, I don't want to risk it. You haven't gone on a long flight like this before,” Phil explained.
Tubbo nodded in understanding, and turned to Tommy with an apologetic smile.
“I guess I have to go then, big man,” he said, taking off his coat.
He extended his wings and Tommy couldn't help but stare at the rich green feathers.
“Bye Tubbo,” he said, trying not to let his sadness show.
“Bye Tommy,” the other three said, their bags already in hand.
They all gave him a quick hug before they turned around and took off.
Tommy watched them until they were just specks in the sky, staring in envy, and already feeling the beginnings of what was sure to be a lonely few days, before turning his back to them and walking into the house.
It was strange seeing the house so quiet, he wasn't used to this. He was used to there always being some small bit of noise. Whether it was just Phil cooking or doing dishes, or Wilbur strumming his guitar and singing, or even just Techno typing away at his computer, there was always some sort of noise. And for it to be as quiet as it was right now felt eerie and wrong. Like a parking lot in the late night.
He went to his room and booted up his computer to play some video games, hoping to pass the time.
Normally he would play with Tubbo, but he was away right now. None of his other friends were online so he ended up playing a few solo matches and joining random calls.
It was fine, but it still felt lonely.
Tommy had gotten bored and ended up finishing and handing in his work, so he had nothing to do in terms of school anymore.
He glanced at the clock.
‘7pm,’ it read
He supposed it was as good a time as any to grab some food.
Tommy made his way to the fridge and pulled out a slice of lasagna. Phil had made it yesterday since it would be able to last the youngest all weekend, even if he ate out for lunch.
It was an alright meal, but something about being alone made it taste... sad somehow.
Tommy ended up eating in his room to feel less alone, his small room making it easier to fill in the emptiness.
When he went to bed that night his back felt achy and sore. Tommy didn't think too much of it, he was a growing teen after all, and so he ignored it, simply sleeping on his stomach instead.
Tommy woke up in excruciating pain. His back felt like it was on fire .The muscles felt like they were being torn in half, sharp, sudden pain making itself known at random, leaving Tommy gasping in pained surprise. He tried moving into a sitting position, before immediately up once it made the internal fire worse.
He just lay there on his stomach, brain scrambling to try and figure out what he could do, how he could fix whatever was wrong, but unable to come to any conclusions. The agony making it too hard to think properly.
In the end he just didn’t do anything. He lay there as the sun came and went, and by the time the moon came out, the pain still hadn’t gone away, in fact, it had only gotten worse.
Tommy’s stomach rumbled. He was starving, but since he could barely move, the blonde had no way to reach what his body desperately needed.
The moon was shining brightly, bathing his room in its silvery light, when he felt the skin rip.
The last thing he felt was warm blood gushing down his shoulder, before he promptly passed out, the pain and suffering too much for his brain to handle.
The birds were chirping when he swam sluggishly back into consciousness. He felt sore everywhere. He shifted a bit, and froze when he felt something move on his back.
Tommy, suddenly feeling much more alert, whipped his head to look at whatever it was, hoping and praying it wasn't a spider. He was greeted by a pair of brilliant red wings. Tommy blinked in disbelief, eyes trailing over the things, noting everything he could about them. He realised that they weren't a solid red, the feathers faded to orange the further they got from his back, eventually becoming a bold gold at the tips. They looked like one of those breath stealing sunsets that he and Tubbo had watched on the bench together.
They were gorgeous.
...They were also covered in blood.
Tommy stood up slowly, keeping a hand on the wall to stop himself from falling. He wasn't used to their weight yet, and he didn't want to risk face-planting. He stumbled into the bathroom and quickly turned on the shower.
Blood rushed down the drain, but he just kept staring at the feather beneath his fingers, half expecting them to disappear, to fade away at any moment, the whole thing just being a painful reminder that he wasn't supposed to have them, that he was sixteen, well past the point avians grew their wings.
But they didn’t. Minutes ticked by and there they stayed, as if determined to prove him wrong. Tommy felt hope begin to swell inside of him, and for the first time in a while, he allowed it to grow.
He wasn't grounded anymore, he was finally free.
Figures that his family would be out of town when they grew in, he thought bitterly. A cruel joke of the universe. The thing he had been dreaming about for years had actually happened, and his family had missed it.
Tommy stepped out of the shower, dried himself off, and put on some clean clothes. He stopped at the sight of his wings in the mirror. They were even more vibrant and eye catching then they were before, and Tommy found himself staring in awe.
He spent the better part of an hour maneuvering wings around him, sometimes flinching in pain when he pulled them wrong. In the end he got most of the blood off of them. He preened them the same way he preened Tubbo’s or his family wings, but the feathers just refused to stay flat. He tried tensing and relaxing different muscles to see if that would do anything, but it didn't.
He folded his wings the way he had seen everyone else do countless times, feeling proud when he did it the first try, before frowning when he noticed how it felt a bit wrong.
He brushed it off, he’d just have to get used to it.
Tommy shrugged and went back to his room, pausing at the sight which greeted him.
It looked like there had been a murder.
His cream colored comforter was covered in maroon splotches from the dried blood and the floors shone in crimson, all the while there were tattered pieces of his (previously white) t-shirt that were scattered throughout the room.
Tommy took off the bed sheets and returned to the bathroom, spending the afternoon scrubbing the blood stains out of them and cleaning his room.
By the time the sheets had only faint, barely discernible splotches of yellow on them, the clock read 4. He sighed and heated up another piece of the lasagna, eating in the same, desolate silence he had the day previous.
Or, actually- it had been two days, hadn't it.
With this in mind he heated up another two pieces. He flopped on the couch and felt the way the thin bones of his wings protested.
Right, he couldn't lie on his back anymore.
He settled on his stomach for a while, just enjoying the way his wings felt, surprised to realise that it was exactly how he had imagined they would.
After a while, he sat upright again. He grabbed his no longer boiling hot lasagne, and ate the rest in silence. Now full and content, Tommy made his way back to bed to sleep to sleep. It may only have been four pm, but there was nothing else for him to do.
He tossed and turned, alternating from his stomach, to his left side, and to his right side. He tried folding his wings, spreading them out and everything in between.
After a few hours he begrudgingly admitted to himself that he probably missed his family more than he had thought he did.
With this in mind he made his way to Wilburs room.
He threw all of the excess pillows and blankets (that his brother had for some reason) onto the bed, before settling beneath the covers.
It felt mildly better, but still not quite right.
He ended up falling asleep a little later, though it wasn't a very good one.
When Tommy woke up the next day he didn't feel very well rested, but he did feel a lot better than he did the day previous.
He carefully put the blankets and pillows back where they had been the day before, and then made his way to the kitchen.
He got some cereal and stretched out his wings again. He extended them as far as they could go, loving the way they pulled on the muscles in his back, muscles he was sure weren't even there a few days prior.
He tried folding them up again, wincing at the tight feelings and wondering how long it would be until he got used to it.
Tommy was about to boot up his computer again, when he caught sight of the outside world.
He had wings, he could fly now.
He jumped up from his seat and rushed outside.
Right, this shouldn't be that hard. All he needed to do was just.. take off, right?
Wrong. He tried so many different ways to get himself up into the air, but he just kept falling. He had tried from the ground, from climbing up trees and jumping, even getting a running start.
Each attempt only left him with more dirt stains, cuts and bruises.
By the time the sun had set he hadn't even been able to get himself into the air once . Not even for a second.
Tommy sat down by the house, his wings tucked painfully behind him and his head in his knees, feeling dejected.
How had he managed to not even get off the ground? Or catch the air for even a few seconds?He had tried everything . How could he be called an avian if he couldn't even fly?!
He thought about what his family would say, would he always be doomed to be the lesser son? The avian who couldn't fly, the boy who had no talents?
Was he being stupid, was it really easy and he was just a failure?.
Tears rolled down his dirty cheeks, clearing through the grime that had accumulated after a few too many falls.
What use were his wings if he couldn't fly?
Maybe he had been better off without them, at least then he could disappoint people in his special way, and not just fail at something the rest of them had long since succeeded in.
He could carve his own path of mistakes, rather than getting lost from the path of success.
The wind rustled his feathers gently as the cool night air settled in.
He didn't want to go back inside though, because if he did then he would be admitting defeat.
So he stayed there, even as the cool wind turned into a biting breeze, as the light of the moon grew stronger and stronger. He flapped and jumped and reached, until his tears froze and his breath became a thick fog in front of him.
Eventually gave up.
Tommy returned inside the house and stumbled into Wilburs bed, his limbs stiff from the cold. This time there was no comfort.
He had failed, he was a grounded bird.
The next day as Tommy awaited his family’s return, he found a way to hide his wings inconspicuously under his clothes. He would try to wear the coat as often as possible once they were back, but he could also hide them beneath his hoodie without too many problems.
If they asked about it, then he would blame his posture or something.
“Hi Phil,” he said coming up and giving him a hug.
“Hey kiddo, how have you been,” the older man asked, wrapping his arms and wings around his youngest.
Tommy broke the hug before Phil’s arms could lock around his middle.
“Just fine,” he said with a nervous laugh,
“Ok.”
“Tommy,” Tubbo shouted, tackling him in a hug.
“Tubbo,” he exclaimed, making sure to keep them upright. He had already fallen on his folded wings, and that was on a couch. He didn’t even want to know how it would feel like when on solid ground.
“Your wings look rough,” he said, noticing the way the green had dulled from its usual shine.
“That’s only because he wouldn’t let any of us touch them,” Wilbur stated, amused as he landed next to them.
“Tubbo,” Tommy said, raising an accusatory eyebrow.
“They don’t do it right, you always know just what needs to be done,” Tubbo told him.
And hell if that didn’t make Tommy’s chest go all warm.
He pushed Tubbo’s shoulders down and got him to sit.
“Here?” Tubbo asked, confused.
“Yes, who knows how bad a job these idiots did,” Tommy said.
Out there on the grass he took his time, even as Techno finally landed he made sure his hands were never away from Tubbo’s wings for more than a few seconds.
He was going much slower than he normally did, but based on the happy sound Tubbo was making, he didn’t seem to mind.
After who knows how long, the feathers had gotten back their bright glossy sheen.
They headed back into the house where everyone had already settled back in.
“Tommy, did you mess with my bed at all,” Wilbur asked him absentmindedly.
“No,” Tommy said quickly, too quickly said Wilburs expression.
“Then why are my blankets messed up,” he said, raising an accusing eyebrow.
“..Maybe I did, what’s it to you,” Tommy huffed, raising his chin defiantly.
“ Tommy, why?” Wibur said with a whine.
“Maybe I just felt like messing with you,” the blonde dodged.
“ Tommy .”
It was the big brother voice. Tommy couldn't resist the big brother voice, Wilbur knew it too and rarely employed it. How badly had Tommy screwed up to get the voice now?
“I was lonely so I slept in your room,” he mumbled to his shoes, his head hung low in shame.
The next moment he was engulfed in a hug of both arms and feathers.
He melted into the embrace, something inside of him needing the contact.
Wilburs hands found his hair and he almost keened.
“Wait,- Tommy, can you take off the hoodie,” Wilbur asked him gently.
Tommy broke off from the hug and shook his head, taking a step away from Wilbur and wrapping his arms around himself.
“Tommy, please?” Wilbur asked gently.
He curled into himself more, shame making his face feel hot.
“Tommy, what's wrong,” Tubbo asked
Tommy took a few more steps back until he was pressed against a wall, his heart beating fast.
They were gonna find out, they were gonna realize what a failure he was, what a disappointment he was.
He sank to the floor, wanting nothing more than to disappear.
“ -ommy , can you hear me?” a voice asked.
He looked up and met the concerned brown eyes of his older brother.
He nodded his head.
“Can you tell me what's wrong,” he asked.
He shook his head.
“Why don't you come to the couch,” Wilbur suggested gently.
Slowly Tommy stood up, feeling like his legs might give out at any second. He successfully made it to the couch where he pressed himself against the arm rest, compacting himself into the corner as much as he dared with his wings.
“Tommy, are you alright?” Phil asked, concern etched on his face.
“Y-yeah, dont worry about it,” Tommy rasped out, throat feeling dry.
“Tommy, I know something is wrong, we won't judge you, we want to help you, promise” Tubbo said, scooting closer.
Tommy looked at them, considering. Even Techno, who had not said much, was looking at him with nothing but kindness on his face.
Without giving himself a chance to second guess his decision, he stood up and hesitantly slipped the hoodie off.
Tommy squeezed his eyes shut as he extended his wings.
He heard the gentle gasps of his family as he unfurled them.
“Did- did that happen while we were gone?” Phil asked, horrified.
Tommy just hung his head in reply. His answer was obvious to all of them.
“I'm so sorry, Toms,” he murmured, approaching him. He held his arms out in an offer of a hug, and Tommy gratefully fell into them.
“That must've been so painful,” Wilbur whispered. “You're so brave.”
“I can't fly,” he whispered shamefully, waiting for the shocked gasps and the insults.
“Well of course you can't fly,” Techno said, “You only just got your wings.”
“But I should be able to!” Tommy argued.
“..No, you haven't been taught how to yet,” Phil said, as if it were obvious. His family's faces had concern etched on them. Tommy desperately grappled for a response.
“Isn't it just taking off and flying,” Tommy asked.
“Well, yes, but the first time is the hardest,” Wilbur explained carefully.
“I was out there almost all day and I couldn't even stay in the air for a second though!” Tommy said, frustrated.
“Shhh, it's all right, we’ll help you and soon enough you'll be flying like a pro,” Phil soothed him, pulling the teen into another hug, this time wrapping his wings around him tightly.
Tommy relaxed. Maybe- maybe he wasn't a failure. Maybe he- he wasn't all that bad..
“Have you preened at all, Tom’s? I know you know how too, but these feathers don't look so good,” Wilbur said, leaning forward.
“Yeah, a bit, but the feathers wouldn't lay flat so I gave up,” Tommy said, shrugging.
Wilbur looked stricken at that.
Tubbo tugged on his elbow, breaking the hug. He led him to sit in front of the couch and ran his hands through his feathers.
Warmth bloomed in Tommy's chest and he let out a sigh.
“I know I know,” Tubbo said happily as he continued to stroke the feathers. Smoothing them out and plucking out the loose ones.
Tommy was unable to stop the litany of happy noses that fell from his lips as Tubbo preened his wings. His hands were soft and gentle against the sensitive skin, scratching an itch he hadn't even been aware of.
He melted deeper into the couch behind him, unable to stop his eyes from drooping.
“So that's why he went to my room, he was looking for a flock,” he heard Wilbur whisper. He didn't really understand what that meant, but something in him snapped when it heard the word, repeating it over and over again.
He felt himself go horizontal, his eyes struggling to stay open all the while Tubbo kept going with his feathers, their steady rhythm never faltering.
“Take him to my room,” he heard Wilbur say faintly.
He felt himself being lifted up and he curled instinctively into whoever’s chest he was tucked up against, his wings hanging limply behind him.
“Awww, he's so cute,” Wilbur exclaimed softly.
He was carried through the house and towards WIlburs room, where he was then laid down in the bed. He felt the blankets being tucked around him carefully. He felt loved. He felt safe.
Tommy woke up the next day feeling better than he had in ages. He slowly got up and extended his wings briefly in order to stretch them out , before folding them back up. He had seen the others knock into things and each other when their wings were fully out, and he didn't want to repeat their mistakes.
He made his way to the kitchen where he found everyone else with a big breakfast spread out in front of them.
“Good morning,” he greeted as he walked into the room.
“Good morning,” was the reply.
“Tommy, don't your wings hurt?” Wilbur asked from where he was sat, buttering a piece of toast.
“What do you mean,” Tommy questioned, confused.
“The way they are folded looks painful, isn't it bothering you? My wings hurt just looking at them,” Wilbur said gently shaking out his own wings to demonstrate his point.
“They're not supposed to hurt?!” Tommy exclaimed, surprised.
Wilbur quickly put down the toast and the knife, wiping the crumbs off his hands. He walked over to Tommy and turned him around.
“Can I touch,” he asked, hovering his hands over the wings.
Tommy nodded and Wilbur gently grabbed the wings, extending and refolding them in a way that felt unbelievably natural.
Tommy sighed in relief.
“That feels so much better, thank you,” he said in gentle awe.
After that he sat at the table next to Tubbo.
Phil walked into the kitchen a few minutes later.
“Ok Tommy, today we need to talk about everything that you're probably feeling. I know it's a lot, trust me, we've all been there, but I promise we're all going to be here for you ok,” he said looking Tommy in the eye.
Tommy nodded, feeling the sincerity drip off the words.
After breakfast they went back to the living room where Wilbur and Techno had gathered countless pillows and blankets, as well as various sweaters and hats.
Tommy’s fingers itched to move them around, but he didnt know why.
“So Tommy, something I don't think we’ve ever explained to you is that you're going to want to do a thing called nesting. Nesting is basically you're avian side wanting to make sure you stay safe, and the way it does that is by making a nest, a little place full of soft little things..To make a nest you have to-” He stopped. “To be honest, I don't know how to explain it, other than to just do whatever feels, right .,” Wlbur said, giving up about halfway through his explanation.
Tommy nodded and walked to the pile. He grabbed a few things and started piling them in a way that looked appealing to him, the little voice in his mind chipping in every now and then.
In the end everything was arranged in a sort of long oval. He folded his wings the way the Wilbur taught him and flopped inside, feeling safer than he had in days.
Tubbo plopped down beside him, and Tommy instinctively spread a wing over him.
“I still can't get over how pretty your wings are,” Tubbo murmured, his eyes tracing the fierce red oranges and yellows that covered his feathers.
Tommy smiled, proud of the colours of his feathers.
He and Tubbo ended up sleeping in the nest for a while, Tubbo still tired from the journey and Tommy still being emotionally exhausted.
The other three cooed at the friends in the nest, already plotting how they would teach Tommy to fly.
When they woke up they had a quick lunch of sandwiches, before they headed off into the woods for a hike.
They went down a long, well worn path that Tommy had been down dozens of times.
It seemed to be everyone's favourite flying spot. There was a large cliff at the end of it that led down a valley with a waterfall and a river flowing nearby.
Wilbur dragged Tommy right up to the edge, trying to get him to admire the view.
Meanwhile Techno and Tubbo stood back knowing what was about to happen. As Tommy stood there with Wilbur, Phil came up behind him slowly and, before Tommy had a chance to notice what was going on, he pushed him off the cliff.
Tommy screamed as his wings snapped out from their previously folded state. Instinct took over and he flapped them, hard. He felt the way the draft caught the feathers, and the way they seemed to push wind beneath him.
He-he was doing it! He was flying!
He was finally free!
Tommy let out a whoop as he flew a bit higher and, with a little help from Tubbo, was able to fly back up to the top of the cliff, where he clumsily landed.
Well, ‘landed’ was a strong word. Tommy’s feet had touched the ground, but he did end up sprawling in the dirt instead. Still, he had flown, he had done it, despite what he had initially thought. His family joined him, landing beside Tommy. Tubbo offered him a hand to pull him up, and Tommy took it. But instead of using it to stand, he tugged Tubbo down with him, Tubbo let out an ‘oof’ . When he sat up his face was covered in dust, and Tommy burst out laughing.
Wilbur joined in, before letting out a surprised squawk as Techno wrestled him into the dirt as well. Everyone was laughing, faces red and wings relaxed. Even Phil joined them, only he sat down carefully on a patch of grass, not wanting to ruin his clothes like they had.
Eventually, the laughter trailed off, and the five of them were left in a companionable silence, staring at the open blue sky.
Maybe he wasn't a failure, maybe he was, either way he had his family- no, his flock on his side. They would always be there for him, and vice versa.
His sunset coloured wings lay beneath him, comfortable despite the weight pressing on them.
The universe had given him a gift, and Tommy would be damned if he didnt use it.